


Brand New Way of Seeing

by ravenhairedtrickster



Category: Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: Angst, CEDA, Government, Human Experimentation, Human Testing, M/M, Starvation, blind!nick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:44:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenhairedtrickster/pseuds/ravenhairedtrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Positive, carrier. Those two words, simplistic verbally were complicated and crippling in their meaning. CEDA had wasted no time, it happened so fast, Nick torn from his side, their fingers brushing accidentally in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brand New Way of Seeing

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a 'mini big bang'. The art and playlist are here:
> 
>  [ART](http://kearadoodles.deviantart.com/art/3098-376705911)
> 
>  [PLAYLIST](http://8tracks.com/kearabell/brand-new-way-of-seeing)

**Block 1**

It was the little things that triggered him. The mention of poker, the sharp scent of hand sanitizer, a small bottle of alcohol Rochelle carelessly brought over, the interested inquiry as to why he kept the Magnum on the nightstand beside his bed and how he got the gun when it had been confiscated when Nick –

Their arrival had been a quiet affair, not so quiet on his part, but considering the shit they had been through, the small tent and a few needles was nothing. Ellis remembered like it had been yesterday, the hospitalesque set up, having blood drawn, tested. Negative, immune were his results, the same for Coach and Rochelle.

Positive, carrier. Those two words, simplistic verbally were complicated and crippling in their meaning. CEDA had wasted no time, it happened so fast, Nick torn from his side, their fingers brushing accidentally in the process.

And then came the promises, now he knew they had been hollow, desperate despite the calm in which the gambler had spoken them.

"A few days, hayseed," his voice never broke, gaze never wavered from Ellis' face. "I promise, it's only a few days. I'll see you then, alright, El?"

Remembering hurt. He said "Okay." with tears threatening to spill and Rochelle's fingers digging into his arm then watched them lead Nick away.

-

Jobs were easy to come by, list your skills get assigned – mechanic, no surprise there.

Ellis fixed everything, from cars to fridges and anything in between. Rochelle spent her days writing, short articles that were published in the camp paper, Ellis hated to agree when she complained her pieces were dull with the lack of anything happening. Kids were Coach's assignment, keeping them active while their parents went to their jobs, the big man also accepted a job on the side, dealing with minor injuries when need be.

Life was peaches, safe from the dwindling hordes outside the fence, warm with electricity.

Nearly thirty-one days since they arrived, since he last saw the stained ivory of Nick's suited back disappearing beyond the tent entrance. Nick's words hung stale in the air every morning – i _t's only a few days_ – haunting Ellis with each sunrise, another day and not so much of a hint at Nick's whereabouts.

CEDA all but ignored him whenever he went snooping around the main building at the edge of the encampment, a large permanent fortress compared to the small rooms they lived in, the words 'Restricted To The Public' warding off the majority of people who questioned it's reason for being there.

Officials he questioned merely brushed him off, some claiming they didn't know of anyone named Nick taken into quarantine. Ellis insisted they wouldn't have missed him, white suit, bad attitude. They shrugged, walked away.

The Magnum on his nightstand was all he had left, the last dregs of a memory that had begun fading. He kept it to give back to Nick, a sort of welcome home, but it laid there every day all day untouched, unused, it practically begged for familiar fingers to pick it up.

With the absence of the gambler things should've gone back to normal, no bickering, snide remarks, touches, kisses, the mechanics fingers pulling sounds he never thought the con man could make from his bared throat. No, things didn't go back to normal, refused.

Rochelle commented on the changes one day.

"You don't look too good, sweetheart," she murmured, voice gentle as though she was speaking to a horse that might spook with any sudden movements.

"I know, Ro'," he replied, eyes downcast. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Why she even asked was beyond him. He grew uncharacteristically bitter at the mere idea of talking about it.

"No, Ro'. I dun mean tuh be rude but I don't want tuh talk 'bout it!" He had rubbed at his face furiously following his snapping words. Knocked his hat off his head and proceeded to grab fistfuls of hair. Tears came unbidden in the wake of his anger, no, helplessness.

When he looked up at the woman he felt shame burning his face. "M'sorry, Ro'," he muttered, burying his face in his hands. "I jus'... jus' miss him." 

"Don't be sorry," she smiled softly then said no more.

She brought alcohol the next time she visited and a letter she wrote to CEDA. It included the history of their travels, close encounters and a detailed description of Nick, from the colour of his eyes to the manner in which he spoke. The conclusion of her eloquent wording was a plea for information, any information.

Ellis was touched – so much so long after she left he stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, begging any God out there for help, a chance, a rumour anything about the gambler.

In the end he rolled onto his side and did something he hadn't done for weeks. He gathered the Magnum up from the nightstand and allowed his fingers to run over its smooth surface. The cold metal of the gun comforted him, if only a little, and when he set it down, shutting his eyes, he laid it beside him.

She delivered the news a few days later, arriving while Ellis was underneath a government owned car. Oil was smeared over one cheek when he rolled out from under the vehicle, his eyes alight with hope.

"El... they gave it back," Rochelle said carefully, watching everything begin to break in Ellis' face. "They didn't even open it. I'm sorry."

"I dun understand!" He cried, standing with a jerk and kicking the car with his steel toed boot. He threw his arms up in defeat before wiping his face with the back of his hand, a failed attempt at hiding the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Why would they do this? Whut'd they do with him, oh God, Ro', whut if they shot him?!"

During their journey both the hick and the gambler had played it so cool. Now seeing Ellis losing it over the very real possibility of having lost Nick was altogether strange and heartbreaking.

"Sweetheart, he isn't dead, they haven't killed him – ” 

"How would yew know?" Ellis exclaimed, interrupting her.

"Call it a sixth sense," she replied and with the utmost care picked her way over to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

"He's not dead," she reassured, feeling her throat constrict with emotion when he turned into her embrace. "That bastard wouldn't die without keeping his promise to you."

It was sheer luck, the kind Ellis never believed in but Nick did, that got him into the restricted building.

He told Rochelle about the call, one of the buildings breakers needing fixing, and promised Coach – the man having been over when he visited the woman – with his hand over his heart that if he so much as got a whiff of where Nick was he wouldn't do something stupid.

When he finally stepped within the front doors of the building twenty-two hours later he sent a silent apology to Coach; the big man should've know better, Nick had taught him how to lie.

Ellis took careful note when a man in a blue uniform led him through the bowels of the building.

"Don't go into Sector 6," he explained, "toxic material there, radiation too. You'll be working on a breaker near that area, as long as you stay away from the doors you'll be fine."

They walked a bit more before coming to a stop near two heavy looking metal doors and a breaker on the wall.

"Here we are," the man gestured, "I trust you brought everything to get the job done?"

Ellis nodded. "I did." He set his box down. He was a mechanic but Keith's dad had taught him a good amount about wires and electricity, what went where and how to diverge currents in order to repair blown circuits.

The man turned on his heels. "Well, I'll leave you to it. When you're done please follow the orange arrows on the floor back."

He watched the man turn the corner, waited, counted to four hundred before deeming he wasn't returning.

The breaker quickly forgotten he eyed the metal doors, upon giving one a gentle push found out they weren't heavy at all, or metal. He entered with a stealth that defied the fact he was wearing steel toed boots. Pushing the bill of his cap higher up he took in Sector 6 with a confused look on his face.

A giant hall, rows of keypad locked doors, clipboards hanging at each. Approaching one he read the first thing he saw. _Anne._ The next. _Josh. Again. Ryan, Marley, Sky, Bill, Adam, Gabriella, Stephanie – Nick._

The name printed in bold black letters stopped him in his tracks. Beneath it was a estimated age and a code. Ellis breathed deep. There was no telling what was on the other side of the door, a zombie, radiation, the name could be anyone, mean anything.  
He threw caution out the window and typed the given code into the keypad with unsure fingers, held his breath as the door opened with a noisy click.

He dared to step inside.

Nothing could've prepared him for what he found. The small room reeked of a hospital, a sickening sterile smell that threatened to make Ellis lose his breakfast all over the floor – the floor, what laid there in a heap was the one thing he needed.

The horror of his discovery came all too fast, drowned out the flooding relief that, yes, he had found Nick, alive.

The gamblers head had been shaved, the prison like garb draped over his body in white folds did little to conceal the jagged edges of his form – bones jutting out in places they shouldn't. Bandages covered his forearms, one wrist bound impossibly tight, shallow bruises disappeared beneath the fabric around his biceps.

His face was the worst, eyes covered by white gauze, what looked like _burn_ marks around the edges, thin lips open, air shuddering his entire body as he drew it into his lungs.

Ellis' knees almost buckled at the sight, yet somehow he found his voice, hesitant with lingering shock. "N- _Nick_? God, whut'd they do tuh yew..."

Nick laughed, something weak that shook his entire body with the effort, startled Ellis.

"Heh, you're not real." His voice so quiet, barely above a whisper.

The con man said it with such certainty Ellis almost believed it himself. Cold fear traveled up his spine.

"Whut? Nick, it's really me," he tried again, pressing a hand to his mouth as he spoke, trying to stop his voice from wavering. "It's Ellis, I-I swear.."

A silence followed his words only broken by Nick's labouring breath.

"Please, we have to hurry," Ellis murmured. He wasn't given a timeline for the job, anyone could come to check on him.

Nick didn't reply, didn't move, just laid there, breathing. And when his breath evened out some his words broke Ellis.

"...they took my suit, overalls."

Ellis couldn't contain himself, couldn't stop from falling to his knees, gathering the gambler up. The body he held wasn't the same, skinny, underfed but still Nick. Tears wet his cheeks, he shut his eyes, wanting to squeeze the other against his chest but not willing to risk any damage.

He settled with pressing a open palm against the back of Nick's head, feeling the sheered hair tickle between his fingers, a ghost of once was silky waves, contained with gel, water, anything.

He nearly jumped when a trembling hand found his cheek, cradling it, feeling – it was then he saw the number tattooed on Nick's wrist, a dark _3098_ against the pale of his skin, vastly off center. A rage filled him at the sight yet when he wrapped his fingers around it, staring down at it he realized for the past month Nick had been a number and nothing more. Stored away under lock and key, neglected.

Tears trailed down his cheeks. Imagining what happened is painfully easy; suddenly he remembered the clipboard, unwilling to let go of the gambler he stood, holding Nick securely as the mans head lulled against his shoulder.

"I got yuh," he murmured against Nick's forehead, wishing it took a little more effort to carry him.

From here, there was no plan. He took the clipboard off the wall, set it carefully on top of Nick then headed to the door. The hall from where he came was blinding after being within the small cell.

For a moment he thought, tried to remember.

He saw one emergency exit on the way in. Tightening his grip on the limp body in his arms he ran. When he burst through the exit, it was probably around one pm judging by the sun – one pm with no time to lose.

Nick was quiet as he ran, avoiding main streets, taking alley ways. Somehow he made it to Rochelle's without being seen.

" – no , he's completely rude," the woman was saying to Coach when Ellis burst through the front door, panting. "What the! Ellis!"

Words followed by shock.

"That's not...." She pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes going wide. "Nick?" Coach provides.

Ellis nodded. "CEDA.. They didn't do this did they?" Rochelle asked. "I dun know," he admitted. "I took the clipboard with his name off the wall."

Rochelle took the board, flipped the page and nearly dropped it before reading out loud.

"Patient 3098, Nick, Positive, Carrier. Subjected to standard CEDA procedure: removal of hair, sterilized. Testing is as follows: blood samples, effects of infected bite to test subject [unaffected], effects of infected saliva injected directly into blood stream [unaffected], effects of virus in bone marrow [unaffected], effects of boomer bile on eyes [total 10 applications: blind, burn scarring around eyes], virus reaction to chemotherapy [unaffected, subject lost large portion of weight]..."

Rochelle trailed off. The words hung in the air between them all, heavy, thick – rotten.

"You both gotta leave," Coach spoke. "Leave this place, they'll kill you when they find out."

Rochelle nodded. "You can take my car, I'll say you stole it." She turned on her heel, racing into the small bedroom. She returned with a map in her hands.

"You can take this with you," the map crinkled open. "There's an abandoned town at the edge of the state, it's far enough that they shouldn't search for you and close enough that we can find you there later."

Ellis blinked, even Nick's head turned in surprise. "Find us?"

"Of course," Coach huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I ain't staying in this place longer than I have to. I don't trust them."

"You and me both," Nick said to their surprise, a small grin on his lips. The mechanic sucked in a breath, looked between the two before him. 

"I can't thank yuh both enough.." He murmured, looking to the floor. 

"Don't sweetheart, you can thank us when we see you two again."

"In the mean time, you should get a move on." Coach said.

They got settled within the car easily enough, Nick wrapped in a large down blanket, the backseat stocked with all the food Ro had, including around thirty bottles of water. She kissed Ellis on the cheek, hugging him before handing over the keys.

"Thanks again, Ro'." He said before starting the car and easing it onto the street.

He was missing something. He nearly passed his place before remembering. Parking he jumped out of the car without so much as a word and disappeared inside. He returned a second later, his pocket jingling with the familiar sound of bullets. Taking his seat again he pressed the Magnum into Nick's idle hands.

He saw the realization on the gamblers face even with the gauze hiding his eyes.

"I kept it," Ellis drawled. "Was gonna' give it back when yew got out... like yuh promised."

A sad look crawled over Nick's face, his fingers squeezed the gun – remedying the situation Ellis leaned over, drawing the gambler to him. Their lips touched: "It's alright though," he breathed into the kiss. "Yer a lyin' bastard anyway."

"And you're a crazy son of a bitch for trying to find me, ace."

Ellis snorted and righting himself began to drive. "'Ey, I found yew, that's gotta count fer somethin'."

"It might," Nick said, a smile gracing his lips.

Only when they had passed the camp gates did Ellis reach over and take Nick's hand, fingers curling around each other.

"I missed yew," he said quietly, softly, trying to convey all his emotion in the three words.

"Me too, hayseed, me too." Came the solemn reply, the con mans voice thick with unshed tears.

Ellis drove all night and then some until finally they pulled into some town off the beaten track. There were still infected roaming around, but not nearly as many as before. He picked the house that looked the least run down, a rather nice looking place with a sky blue exterior.

He took advantage of the empty garage, parking within.

This was it, the knowledge sobering, no more CEDA, only Nick's company and a town now with a population of two.

After checking that the house was clear, Ellis gathered the gambler up and carried him inside.

The sterile scent lingered heavily on Nick, as though it had penetrated his flesh. It being the thing that eventually decided Nick needed a bath. By some stroke of luck, hot water poured out of the tap and into the tub.

He sat the gambler on the toilet seat, still wrapped in the blanket Rochelle had given them.

“I don't need a bath,” Nick murmured, blindly facing the direction he thought Ellis was. “I'm already clean.”

Completely unlike the man to refuse, it sparked a dreadful curiosity within the mechanic. He only noticed the trembling when the tub was over half way full and he turned to help Nick out of the layers enveloping him.

“No, overalls, I'm serious,” Nick protested, leaning away from Ellis's touch. The hick managing to rid the gambler of the blanket. With nothing to hold, shaking hands gripped the toilet, protruding knuckles going white.

“'Ey, c'mon,” Ellis coaxed, somehow ushering the other to stand on weak legs. Nick's fingers dug into his shoulders, as though he was holding on for dear life – only letting go when the white shirt CEDA dressed him in was pulled over his head.

“Oh, _Nick_ ,” the mechanics words were painfully gentle and Nick didn't have the voice to protest when familiar hands found his skin, exploring the prominent slopes, the result of rapid weight loss and lack of nutrition.

A tie at the front of his pants pulled loose and the thin materiel fell from boney hips without any further touch.

Ellis held back tears, kept his voice even as he guided Nick to the edge of the tub.

“Nick, I need yew tuh hold still.”

Slowly, as if he were unwrapping something made of glass he began unwinding the gauze covering Nick's forearms. Bruises littered the abused skin, more pinpricks where needles had either found or missed veins than he could count were scattered everywhere. Done revealing one arm, Ellis dared to run the pad of his finger along a series of spots where scars had formed from the reopening of wounds – Nick jumped at the touch, jerking his arm away.

“M'sorry,” Ellis apologized, drawing the retreated limb back and pressing a kiss to the inside of Nick's wrist, on the number tattooed into his flesh.

Releasing the gamblers arm he started on the other. It was much the same, bruised, pale, he worked his way down, ending at the wrist. The skin there had been torn, though somewhat healed over Ellis felt his stomach churn. There was no doubt about it, closing around Nick's wrist was a bite mark.

“Is it that bad?” Nick asked, taking the mechanics silence as a bad sign.

“It ain't pretty,” Ellis admitted with a sad sigh. “But there ain't no reason why yuh can't be right as rain soon.”

A small smile played over Nick's lips, it seemed forced, his teeth gritted.

“Once yuh get all washed up it'll get better,” he assured, twining is fingers with the hand he held. He was certain the majority of the marks would remain for years to come, the bruising would fade but the rest would stay a reminder.

“Now, yuh jus' gotta step over the edge'uv the tub,” the mechanic murmured, not minding but noting the way Nick's hand tightened on his.

“I really, don't need a bath, El, I'm clean,” Nick began. Ellis had never been particularly good at reading people but he knew fear when he saw it. He pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Nick's mouth, catching the gambler by surprise.

“You reek,” Ellis said softly as he kicked off his shoes, and with one hand untied his coveralls from around his waist. Nick didn't budge, however, standing rigid. When Ellis released him for a moment he tilted his head in question when he heard the shuffle of clothes falling to the floor.

“What are you doing?” The gambler inquired, reaching out blindly. A warm hand met his and again their fingers twined.

“I dun know why yer so scared,” Ellis started, he stepped into the tub with bare legs. “But, I thought maybe it'd be easier if I, uh, helped yew in.”

“ _Ellis_ ,” Nick sighed, he had no plans to get into the tub but when the mechanic pulled gently he found himself cringing as warm water enveloped him up to mid calf.

“See, it ain't so bad.”

It really wan't, Nick knew that. However, it was vastly different from the manor in which CEDA had washed him. His wrists ached at the thought, he recalled being stripped down and shoved into a small room – fighting the first few times, only to have his arms strung above him by metal cuffs and rope – deft hands rubbing soap into his skin with a cruelty he didn't think was possible. The water varied, from scalding temperatures that left him red on top of raw or so cold he was shivering for hours after.

He gripped Ellis' hand all the tighter, stepping in close to the mechanic. “Nick?”

Not bothering to explain he wrapped his arms around the hicks neck and was rewarded with arms looping around him in return. It felt like a dream, like he couldn't really be standing here, further more Ellis' mouth was on him. His neck, his jaw, Nick wondered if the hick could feel his heart fluttering madly in his chest, nearly exploding when plump lips found his.

God, he had missed this, all those lonely nights in safe houses. Leaning breathlessly over Ellis, panting out a warning to be quiet as he sheathed himself within the hick, Coach and Rochelle in the next room.

This was nothing like that, unnaturally thin, blind, Nick stood a mere shadow of what he had been back then. An errant trembling over took his body, the swish of the water  
they stood in reminding him. He clung to Ellis, his life line, and turned his head, admitting in a breathy whisper: “ _I'm scared_.” 

“Uv whut?” Came the reply, warm against his hollowed cheek.

Nick inhaled, shakily, managing to shrug his shoulders in defeat. “Everything,” he said, then making the decision to submit to the bath uttered, “promise you won't touch me, El.”

The request came as a surprise but Ellis nodded before answering, “I promise, Nick.”  
And with that the gambler peeled away from him, his breath hitching as he sat down, submerging his lower half in the water.

“Do yew want me tuh stay?” Ellis asked, stepping from the tub.

“No, overalls,” Nick said, his voice small, his face facing the water, he might've been staring at it if not for the gauze.

“Alright,” Ellis said, drying his legs off and pulling his jeans and coveralls back on. “If yuh need anythin' give me uh shout.”

“Will do, ace.” 

-

The evening after the bath was made up of silence and the clink of metal spoons on porcelain bowls, both of which Ellis found in the house cupboards. He picked the easiest thing to make after unloading the car.

Nick's nose crinkled with every bite, he wasn't fond of beans, it was, however, better than nothing. He ate very little, his stomach churning with the effort of holding the few mouthfuls down.

Ellis had given him new clothing, a shirt a size too small regularly hung on him, a pair of elastic waisted boxers and a pair of grey sweatpants all too big kept threatening to slide off his hips. The bath had washed away the scent of CEDA, and Nick was very aware of the fact that he now reeked of the mechanic.

The bowl he was eating from clattered noisily to the table when he could eat no more.

“Yew done?” The hick broke the silence.

Nick nodded and stood suddenly. He heard Ellis' bowl being set on the table, the mechanic walking the corner to stand by his side. He noted with much interest Ellis didn't touch him.

“Is there a bedroom in this joint?” The gambler asked.

“Uv'course,” and hesitantly Ellis took Nick's hand. The con man followed without question, regretting that when they got there he'd have to let go.

He assumed Ellis led him to the master bedroom because when he crawled onto the bed it was massive, extremely plush, expensive.

It felt strange to know Ellis was standing there, watching him as he kicked off the sweat pants, burrowed under the heavy blankets.

“If that's all...” Ellis said, his voice retreating.

A split second decision in all it's entirety Nick sat up, struggled with the blankets until he had cleared an extra spot. Then ever so softly murmured, “I don't want you to go, El.”

There was no pause in Ellis' steps, only the realization that they had turned and were getting closer. He heard boots being thrown off and clothes falling before he felt a toned body slide beside him.

Comfort, that's what this was, and a need to have some sort of contact with another human being. Starved of this for years before the apocalypse he had never bothered to seek anything other than pleasures he could buy. That had been fake, forced.

This was something else, real. He sighed, enjoying the heat radiating off the hick as he nuzzled close, pressing his face to Ellis' hair, breathing a scent he wouldn't mind drowning in.

Lips found his neck, leaving a small trail of wet spots in their wake, a warm palm snuck beneath the borrowed shirt, laying flat against his concave stomach. Nick trembled, reaching out, blindly finding Ellis' face – and he merely touched, felt everything he had once been able to see, his fingers skirting up the hicks nose, running over the scar at its bridge, bury themselves in soft, slightly curled hair as they moved higher.

Ellis' hands slipped down, to his hips, his thighs, tugging gently until Nick rolled on top of him. The gambler paused, blindly straddling Ellis' hips, he'd never felt so unsure in his entire life.

At this point before he might've smirked cruelly down at the hick, teased him and watched his face change as Nick found all those precious little points of pleasure.  
There was nothing now, just an uncharacteristic uncertainty as he sat there, blind as a newborn kitten, not knowing where to touch, what to do.

Idly, he brought a hand to his face, fingers tracing the gauze. A moment later he felt Ellis sit up and he slid back until he was sitting on the hicks thighs, a hand closed around his wrist, pulling it away.

It was though Ellis knew what he had been thinking, and yet the mechanic didn't need words to convince him otherwise.

Easily, Ellis eased over until Nick found his back to the mattress, the hick snug between his legs. He pressed a hand to his lips, gasping as Ellis' mouth found his bare chest, the shirt pushed high.

Skilled fingers dipped into the waist band of his boxers, Nick's breath caught in his  
throat and painfully he was aware of his growing arousal against the palm of Ellis' hand.

Torture would be a good word for what he was going through, but then not so for the hick didn't leave him waiting, didn't make him beg – though he did cry “ _El!_ ” when his balls drew up against his body and he spilled his seed all over the others grasping fingers.

Boneless and limp Nick laid panting, is face turned to one side as Ellis nipped at his neck, covering the gentle bites with kisses. He didn't know he had been smiling until the hick whispered in his ear, “M'glad, yew enjoyed it,” and met upturned lips in a kiss that deepened when he rolled onto his side, pulling Nick impossibly close.

The gamblers final, hazy thought before falling asleep was that Ellis would no doubt make him take another bath after coming in his boxers.

It brought on a dread but one he knew he could overcome; the hick squeezed him softly, he sighed against the others neck. Sleep falling over him in the form of warm arms.

 

**Block 2**

 

Ellis was late, oh God so late. In his left hand he held his shotgun, in the other a plastic bag heavy with canned food and anything he could find that wasn't expired. Three and a half months of going on food runs every week and one simple fucking kiss from Nick had made him forget – gunfire rang out, Ellis dropped the bag and ran. The door was wide open, practically torn off the wall as he burst through its entrance.

Blood, it streaked Nick's face, neck, the Magnum held in two shaky hands even had splatter on it. At the gamblers bare feet were bodies, four in total, none at all clean head shots, a skull fractured open, brain matter and bone decorating the floor, not clean kills but lucky as all were dead.

He didn't think to announce his presence as he dropped his shotgun and took a urgent step forward. The shock on Nick's face registered too late, fear urging the con man to do one thing and one thing only. He fired.

If luck had been on his side with the infected swarming the unlocked door, then it had run out for the bullet grazed Ellis' arm, slicing a neat line as it buried itself into the wall behind him.

"Whoa, that was close," he said more to himself than anyone else when his fingers came away with minimal blood.

"El.. " Nick's voice was small. Then the Magnum was flying across the room in the opposite direction and the gambler was moving towards him, arms out, worry etched into his face. "Oh, fuck, I didn't shoot you, did I? Ellis?!"

He stumbled over the bodies on the floor, gasping then swearing when familiar arms grabbed him, steadied him.

"Yuh gotta be careful," Ellis said and Nick's first reaction was to punch the hick. It wasn't hard, a frustrated jab to the chest and Nick was pushing Ellis away, a scowl painting his face as he stood alone, arms crossed over his chest.

"What the fuck were you thinking, overalls?" Nick's voice was a hiss between his teeth, and a helplessness that Ellis knew all to well by now. The underlying words the gambler didn't say were: I _'m blind, I could've killed you._

He didn't want to get defensive but the words came before he could stop them. "I dunno, I was thinkin'uv how I fergot tuh lock the door an' then I heard yer gun.. sheit, Nick, I thought I'd lost yew!"

Nick huffed, then palmed at his eyes, if they hadn't been so damaged tears might've fell. Instead there was only the uncomfortable thickness in his voice as his throat constricted.

"And I almost killed you." The hick dared to take a few steps forward, stopping inches away from the gambler.

"But yew didn't," he replied simply and didn't question when Nick tugged him into a lopsided hug.

"Next time use your fucking head," Nick growled low, wishing he could glare at Ellis.

"We haven't survived this long on our own to die just before Coach and Rochelle arrive."

The other two were honestly at the back of Nick's head, he didn't care that they'd planned to meet up, but Ellis did, and Ellis had been worrying about them, wondering why they hadn't arrived yet.

"Mhm, it'll be like old times when they get here," Ellis suddenly pipped up and Nick pushed him away again, a smirk on his face.

"Just like old times," he agreed, then snorted. Old times had been fucking and hoping they wouldn't notice, Ellis had become his crutch, there'd be no ignorance about their relationship this time around.

He shuffled in the direction he thought he threw the Magnum while Ellis dragged the bodies outside.

-

Nick was standing under the hot spray of water coming from the shower when the door clicked open.

“Jus' droppin'uh towel off,” the hick said from beyond the shower curtain, voice soft.

After the earlier incident the mechanic had been catering to his every need, any other day he wouldn't have minded, but this had weakness painted all over it in big red letters.

Nick sighed in frustration. “You don't have to tiptoe around me, hayseed, shooting some zombies isn't a big deal, I've been through worse.”

There was a pause before Ellis replied, a worried desperation lacing his words. “It ain't the same, Nick... yer _blind_.”

The word stung as though Ellis had slapped him across the face. Sure months had gone by but he still hadn't accepted it. Bile burned the back of his throat, he turned his face to the water.

“Get out.” He said, thankful the noise of the shower drowned out the waver of his voice.

The door shut behind the hick as he left.

What followed the shower was avoidance. He had no real right to be angry at Ellis, but weeks of slowly rebuilding had left him raw, like he had a bone to pick regarding everything. The evening after dinner was no different, Nick made his way to the bed, fell into its embrace and the whole night never felt the bed dip beside him.

For what felt like days after he woke alone, found food alone and sat alone as he waited for Ellis to stop avoiding him, slipping in and out without a word. Going on more runs than usual.

Nick thought about a lot as he sat around. How unfair he was being, how obviously Ellis was only trying to help, had in fact done a great job up until the gambler had begun to feel like himself again.

He laughed bitterly. He'd never be himself again, the world was darkness, only sounds, smells, touch. This wasn't life – the front door opened, today he'd apologize — but it also wasn't death.

“El, I'm sorry,” he started when the crackling of a radio made him stop in his tracks.

“Non-infected, male, alone. Course of action?” 

A fuzzy response. 

_Take into custody._

Nick was on his feet in an instant, fumbling for the Magnum sitting somewhere on the table before bolting. There was no chance, this wasn't a zombie, this was a live human being. He made it to the hallway before they caught up.

He might've tripped on his own but a part of him suspected the invader as he crashed to the floor.

“Resist and - “

“Fuck you,” he snarled, gritting his teeth together as a gloved hand found his hair, smashing his face against the carpet. Dazed, his arms were pulled behind his back and metal bit into his wrists – from above there was a interested 'Oh' as fingers pushed the cuff up to reveal the number inked into his skin.

Then words that made his blood run cold.

“I thought I recognized you.”

He fought, kicked, thrashed but when a hand fisted his hair and threatened to pull his scalp clean off he froze, going limp as he breathed hard, panting like a man who just ran a marathon.

“That's it,” the disembodied voice murmured, almost cooed. The hand in his hair trailed down, fingers becoming suddenly tender, gentle, Nick clenched his jaw, hissing through his teeth, realizing the fucker was _petting_ him as though he was a wild animal.

“They'll be happy to have you back,” the voice said and when Nick refused to be pulled to his feet, strong arms hauled him up and threw him over a thick leather clad shoulder. “You were their most promising case,” a dark chuckle followed, “the only one who didn't die.”

Memories flooded his head, the others like him. Screaming in rooms beside his, screaming that turned into coughing, a giddy laughter or screeching that sent terrified shivers down his spine, the worst had been the sound of a woman sobbing, day after day. Each sound had been eventually followed by one gunshot, precise in it's  
application it often echoed, silenced. Those who still maintained their sanity had thrown themselves against the doors, driven by fear. Not unlike the way sheltered animals grow restless when another is put down.

_No._

He would not go back there, not to be locked up in the dark and poked with needles and knives and whatever else they had hidden up their sleeves.

Sucking a breath he waited till the man was mid step before bucking with all his strength. Thrown off balance and winded by a knee to the stomach, he dropped Nick. The gambler landed on his side with a pained huff before staggering to his feet, trying to map out where he was by the way the floor felt beneath his toes.

Somewhere between the kitchen and the living room, he briefly thought of the table nearby, the Magnum on its surface. But that would do him no good with his wrists cuffed behind his back.

Options were limited, he could run and hope he didn't smash face first into a wall, that'd at least buy him some extra time.

Running blind wasn't a good idea, he knocked a chair over, taking what felt like a punch to the gut as it fell, his memorization of the house, however, came in handy – even if the man he'd winded recovered impossibly fast.

It was like a game of hide and seek, like a scene out of a horror movie, Nick didn't scream when a hand grabbed him, yanked him back with such force he toppled backwards, landing hard on his shoulders and neck. He gasped, writhed for a moment before a heavy weight settled on his stomach, a warm drop of something splattering on his cheek and he couldn't help the smirk that plastered his face, blind yet he had probably broke the bastards nose.

Calloused palms caressed his shoulders, slowly moving until their thumbs met.

“Little too much fight in you for my liking,” hot breath washed over Nick's face. “I'm sure they'll be happy to get you back either way. Besides, I don't usually transport the living. More of a cadaver sort of guy if you know what I mean.”

Nick's jaw dropped out of sheer reflex, he gasped, salvia pooling in his mouth, running down his chin as he struggled to draw in air. The hands on his throat squeezed, he kicked, bucked, but dislodging the man was impossible. A cruel laughing filled his head, morphing into that same giddy cackle from the cell beside him as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, his thrashing slowed.

It faded with his consciousness, leaving the blissful sound of the ocean rushing through his ears and the steady beat of a drum – only interrupted by a shocked shout somewhere in the distance; ocean spray hit his face in fat droplets and in time with a sudden booming thunder, the drum stopped.

-

There was no flash of light, no sudden realization. Just the pained pull of air flooding his lungs and a disorientating darkness that suffocated him the moment he opened his eyes. 

Sensation came next, his throat hurt, chest ached, arms were wrapped around him, holding him up, embracing him. Nick groaned, wishing whoever had put the blind over his eyes would remove it...

_Oh. Right._

His memories were scattered, bits and pieces floating around in his head. He swallowed thickly, wincing at the pain.

Tentatively he spoke. “E-El?” The urge to clear his throat caused his voice to hitch, but he didn't dare. 

“I'm here.”

He felt relief wash over him in waves. The gambler didn't want to ask what happened, he cared, but right now he just wanted to stay here, Ellis surrounding him. However, the hick was oddly quiet. Something was wrong.

“Overalls, what's wrong?”

Hesitation followed his question. He felt Ellis' shrug half heartedly.

“Nick.. I lost it,” the mechanic murmured.

“Lost what?”

“Muh mind,” he said helplessly. “I killed him, Nick, shot him right in the back'uv the head.”

“Ellis, it's - “

“No, it's not okay,” Ellis interrupted. “He was killin' yew, I shot him in the back'uv the head an' then I kept shootin'.”

The hick sounded distraught, Nick realized that was probably the first time the mechanic had killed another person.

“You acted on impulse, fireball, saw something you,” he hesitated to say the word but spat it out in the end, “loved being attacked and you did the first thing that came to mind.” He chuckled, leaning back against Ellis. “I would've done the same, ace, though the results would've been far worse than a few extra bullets.”

“Ro' said the same thing,” the hick murmured and Nick straightened.

“They finally got here?” He asked gingerly, afraid one or both of them had been present for the whole conversation.

“Mhm, lucky too, I dun know uh damn thing 'bout see-pee-are,” Ellis drawled, fingers skirting across Nick's chest. “Coach had tuh be uh little rough with yuh, said yew were bein' 'difficult as usual'.”

The implications of that sentence were enough to make Nick want to double over and puke the remnants of Coach's mouth out of his. Somehow he refrained, though a shudder did pass through him.

“Wonderful,” he said sarcastically, Ellis chuckled. “So, where are they?”

“They took the body out,” a little more hesitantly, “Ro' suggested they give us some time..”

Nick rubbed at his eyes, shifted and for the first time noticed they weren't on the floor but the bed. 

“So they know then,” he muttered.

He felt Ellis nod. “Yeup, Ro' said they knew before, jus' didn't want tuh scare yew away.”

Nick sighed loudly, a frown painting his face – he didn't deny himself the urge to tilt his face in Ellis' direction, finding the hicks lips in the 'dark'. 

“I guess that doesn't matter,” he mumbled, turning to face Ellis. “Not anymore.”

He felt his way along the hicks body as he positioned himself, straddling him like that one time before, when everything had been so new and alien.

“Nick, I dun think they'll be _that_ long.”

Nick snorted, “They could walk into the room and I wouldn't give a fuck,” he growled, tipping Ellis' hat off with a blind whack. His teeth clashed with Ellis' if only by sheer luck and a month of forced celibacy and three after, that in Ellis' mind was to prevent any further injuries, came to an aggressive, needy end.

The gambler had been serious, if Coach or Rochelle walked in he wouldn't have stopped, been unable. The hick led him but not at all in a dominant fashion, Nick was silently glad for that.

It was like exploring a whole new planet, somewhere not discovered, with nooks and crannies that were his and his alone. Scaling up toned muscle to reach a delicate peak, coax it to life. Or run his fingers beneath fabric and find a soft trail leading down, between two creamy hair dusted thighs. 

Sun kissed skin rose in gooseflesh to meet his traveling digits, and the gasp Ellis uttered from above as his fingers curled around hardening flesh was a sure sign he was doing something right.

He stroked Ellis with all he was worth, putting every effort into drawing those sounds from the hick. Warming him up before the inevitable fall – the fall nothing more than the time between foreplay and intercourse, a few minutes of agony for Nick as Ellis prepared himself, whimpering teasingly as he fucked himself with his own fingers.

Those minutes soon evaporated with the heat of the bedroom and Ellis was drawing him forward, somewhere between the start and this moment their clothes had been lost, shed to the floor with little care, none on Nick's part.

The gambler kept still, waited, listened and when Ellis' fingers found his hair he pressed forward, blindly, allowing the hicks free hand to guide him within. Months of no sex and Nick almost lost it instantly. 

He grit his teeth, bit his lip and from somewhere below him Ellis observed: “I missed yew like this.”

It was subtle permission, and all that Nick needed before he was moving, leaning over so his forehead met the hicks. He exhaled hard out of his nose, sucking in a deep breathe despite his aching chest.

“I'd be a liar if I didn't say the same, overalls,” he replied, lips moving against Ellis' as he began a slow, easy pace.

“I thought yew were always uh dirty liar,” Ellis managed between the kiss.

Nick chuckled, pulling back. “A liar, very true, but I'm only dirty with stupid. Hicks. Like. You.” He punctuated each word with a thrust.

“ _Gawd_ ,” Ellis moaned, his eyes fixed on the gamblers. Sex had been a common thing before the CEDA camp, but it had always been different, restrained on Nick's side.

He'd been tight lipped and near emotionless. It was like watching a completely different person, Ellis couldn't bring himself to look away from Nick's face, so much naked expression playing out over it, his eyes shut with ecstasy, lips parted. The only thing that could've marred the gamblers perfection were the burn marks but even those couldn't contain what Nick had become.

Ellis' hand snaked between his legs and he stroked in time with the conmans thrusts. He waited, somehow stalling off his impending orgasm in order to watch Nick's face change as pleasure rendered it slack, dreamy in the aftermath – Ellis came soon after, Nick's fingers curiously reaching out to curl over his hand as he drove himself over the edge, warmth pooling in his stomach as he came.

Down the hall Nick heard the front door open and shut, signalling Coach and Rochelle's return. He didn't care as he fell to the bed beside Ellis, pulling the mechanic close, not minding how the hick turned to face him.

He sighed contently as lips found both his scarred eyelids, kissing both in turn before a mouth found his lazily. 

“Nick, I dunno if I ever told yew,” Ellis began but Nick interrupted him.

“Yeah, yeah, overalls,” he said, a tenderness lacing his voice. “I love you too.”

And Nick could practically _see_ the goofy smile lighting up the hicks face.

**Author's Note:**

> If you read it and enjoyed it, then I'm glad. If you didn't enjoy it and found it a bunch of rubbish, I'm on your side, haha.
> 
> Perhaps one day I will rewrite the entire thing properly.


End file.
